


The Sea, The Sea

by Azile_Teacup



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Phobias
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-05 00:59:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3099089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azile_Teacup/pseuds/Azile_Teacup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt: phobia</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sea, The Sea

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: nausea, phobic fear

“Whoooo!” Merlin yells, standing at the top of the yacht, and then he starts laughing wildly and turns to Gwen, “it’s so exhilarating!”

Gwen just grins right back at him, clutching his arm. She’s been so happy today, thanks to Lance. All thanks to the wonderful Lancelot. Merlin leans in to kiss Gwen’s cheek and brush her curls away from her face, laughing when the wind just blows them back at her. 

“I love you Gwen, I’m glad you’ve found this.”

“Thanks. Me too, isn’t he amazing? He has a yacht!”

“I can’t believe Arthur’s never brought me out like this before. The prat! I bet he thought it’s normal and boring. Shall we go back, find our men?”

Gwen laughs and they link arms, making their way back into the cabin. Lance cuts the engine and joins them, jumping down into the small space and reaching up to help Gwen in. Merlin has to scramble down the steps on his own because Lance is not chivalrous, Merlin has found, he’s just obsessed with Gwen. Merlin throws himself on the bench seat next to Arthur and watches Lance pull Gwen into a dance. Gwaine idly chucks peanuts at them from his perch by the bar and pours out drinks. 

“Alright, Arthur?” Lance calls, a crinkle of worry making an appearance as he looks their way. 

Merlin looks at Arthur. He’s sweating and looks a bit pale. 

“Are you feeling okay?” Merlin asks, “oh, do you get sea sick?”

“I do not,” Arthur snaps, “I’m fine. Just tired. I might go lie down.”

“Come on, stay a bit? I haven’t seen you much today,” Merlin says, tucking himself into Arthur’s side and grinning at Percy, who’s handing out drinks. 

“Alright. I’m alright, Lance,” Arthur says, nodding to Lance. 

Lance comes over anyway and makes them move so he can pull a table down from out of nowhere and set seats around it for everyone. Gwaine and Percy bring drinks and Gwaine mixes a cocktail for a jug and Gwen goes to see if the fridge has any snacks in and comes back with a stack of dips. 

“Do you have crisps to go with these?” She asks, sitting beside Arthur and dumping her haul on the table. 

“Try the cupboard,” Lance says, “no, wait, I’ll find some!”

He kisses Gwen on the way past her and she stares after him adoringly. Or, Merlin realises, lustfully stares at his arse. He reaches across Arthur to whack her arm so she knows that he noticed. Gwen blushes and shrugs, admitting it. 

“Ha! It’s not just me,” Merlin says, smug.

“You stare at my boyfriend’s arse, too?” Gwen asks.

“You stare at _your_ boyfriend’s mate’s arse?” Arthur asks, finally actually paying attention to proceedings and laughing at Merlin. 

“Shut up both of you. I stare at all lovely arses,” Merlin says, “but I meant that you can no longer tease me when I watch Arthur go to the bar at the pub.”

“What about my arse?” Gwaine asks, “where does that rank?”

“Rank is the right word,” Percy mutters.

Gwaine pushes him off the stool where he’s perched and then throws himself after him and they roll about on the floor, which is pretty much par for the course. 

“Have you heard from your Mum recently, Lance?” Arthur asks, as Lance returns with three bags of Tyrells crisps.

“No. Why? Has she been sending you random cookies, too?”

“Yeah. We got a tin of shortbread shaped like reindeer in the post yesterday. Merlin ate them all. In one go.”

“I still feel faintly ill,” Merlin admits, “but it was definitely worth it. I liked the ginger snaps, too. And the little rolled up things that tasted like brandy. Mmm.”

“Brandy snaps?” Lance suggests, mocking him. 

“No, they were little roll things,” Merlin protests, trying to demonstrate with his hand and accidentally hitting Arthur. 

“Clumsy oaf,” Arthur snaps, ducking away from Merlin and shifting along the bench, ducking his head, hand clenching around his glass. 

“Don’t be a bitch just cus you’re tired,” Merlin snaps back, “you’re been in a bad mood all day. I’d thank you not to snap at me.”

“Alright,” Lance says, voice calming and soothing and all that, like it always is, “Arthur, you’re an idiot but this is your choice so leave Merlin alone.”

“What’s his choice?” Merlin says, squinting at Arthur. 

He’s still pale and a bit sweaty. 

“Nothing,” Arthur snaps, “butt out, Lance.”

Gwaine pops up from the floor and liberally refills everyone’s already full glasses, his own version of mediating arguments. Arthur subsides, though, and waves his hand as if erasing his bad mood. Gwaine grins at him then ducks back under the table to drag Percy up, too. 

“So,” Percy says, as if he wasn’t just acting like a puppy, “I met someone.”

“Tell us!” Gwen says, wriggling in excitement. 

Merlin gets bored pretty quickly. He can drink and listen to Percy go on about the latest bloke he’s making Gwaine jealous with any night of the week at the pub. He sips his drink for a while, but then he talks Arthur into going up on deck with him. He leans on the rail and looks back towards the harbour, staring into the water. He closes his eyes and breathes deep. 

“I love the smell of it,” Merlin says, “salt and seaweed and sea. The sound of it.”

Arthur doesn’t answer. Merlin finishes his drink and turns so his back’s to the sea, smiling at Arthur, pulling him closer by the waist of his trousers, so they’re pressed close. Arthur looks down at him, eyebrow quirked, but then he shakes his head and pulls away. 

“Sorry, Merls. Can’t do this. Sorry.”

Arthur ducks back down into the cabin and Merlin’s left staring at the empty space. He follows Arthur, taking his glass, but he’s not at the table with the others. Neither is Lance.

“Where’s Arthur?” he asks. 

“He went barrelling through to Lance’s cubbyhole thing and Lance followed. I assume you’re doing some kinky partner-swap thing? Are you and Gwen going to have sex in here, now?” 

Merlin stares at Percy for a full minute before shaking his head and staring a bit more. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Gwaine says. 

And then they’re back on the floor, Percy tickling Gwaine mercilessly. Gwen tucks her feet up under her and seems happy where she is, so Merlin leaves them to it and follows Arthur and Lance to Lance’s bedroom thing. It’s a tiny space, little more than a cupboard with a bed in it, and Lance and Arthur are already there. With the three of them it’s kind of like playing sardines. 

“What on earth is going on?” Merlin asks. 

“Well, he’s currently having a panic attack,” Lance says, sounding resigned, “and seeing as you’re here I’m going to task you with calming him down while I go find something in case he vomits.”

Lance leaves, shutting the door behind him, and Merlin’s faced with Arthur. He’s pressed against the wall, gone from ‘pale’ to a sickly white, sweat beading at his forehead and at his collar bones. 

“I’m good,” Arthur says, “I don’t need you to do anything, I can… do it… myself…”

Arthur presses a hand to his chest and shuts his eyes, just breathing for a while. 

“Want me to count or something?” Merlin suggests, sitting beside him. 

Arthur shakes his head, but he does lean against Merlin. Merlin can feel him trembling. It’s fine but it’s there. 

“Did I do something?” Merlin asks, unsure of why Arthur’s running away, “did I do something wrong?”

“No…” Arthur says, then coughs. 

Lance comes back with a bowl, which he sets in Arthur’s lap. 

“You’re such an idiot,” Lance says, sounding kind of fond about it, “he doesn’t much like water, Merlin. Let me know when you’re good and I’ll take us back in.”

“No,” Arthur says, again, “I’m… you should… Gwen…”

“There’s be other times,” Lance says, smiling a half smile and pressing Arthur’s knee, “I don’t like doing this to you. Let me take you back, yeah?”

“Kay,” Arthur says, “I’m good, though, we can go now.”

Lance looks at him for a long time before nodding and leaving. Arthur closes his eyes again and snorts. 

“I’m not going to throw up. And I’m fine,” he says.

“The shaking and the whole weird breathing and sweating and stuff isn’t helping that assessment,” Merlin says. 

“You should have seen me a few years ago,” Arthur says, “I used to vomit, pass out, shake like a leaf… this is actually progress.”

“Congratulation,” Merlin says. 

“Don’t be sarcastic. You should be nice to me, I’m poorly.”

“Can I help?”

“Nah. It’s just a stupid fear, you know? Completely irrational. No trauma. Just… fear. Let’s just talk about something else.”

Arthur’s breath has quickened and Merlin can feel the shakes getting worse. 

“Alright,” he says, “I have an idea. Lie on your back. Or however you’re most comfy.”

Arthur lies back without question. He’s seen Merlin meditate so Merlin assumes he knows what’s coming but Merlin still likes the little trust. 

“Focus on your breathing. Count two in and three out.”

Merlin waits for a while, until he feels some of the tension leave Arthur. 

“Just think about your breathing. In.. out… in.. out…” Merlin breathes with him for a while, “think about the garden at home, about the feel of the grass in the morning when you go out with no shoes. The concrete of the back step, then the earth beneath your feet, and then the dewy grass. Damp and fresh. In.. out…”

Merlin talks Arthur through the garden and then takes him out a back gate that isn’t there in reality and into the woods he knows Arthur and Lance used to play in and down to the stream. Arthur opens his eyes then, blinking at Merlin, breathing even. He’s still pale and he’s still a bit sweaty, but he seems better. 

“How do you feel?” Merlin asks. 

“Hmm,” Arthur says, smiling and shutting his eyes again. 

It’s going well until the sea swells under them and Arthur goes white again, heart beating double time against Merlin’s hand, that’s somehow ended up on Arthur’s chest. 

“Shit,” Arthur says, squeezing his eyes tight closed.

“Shh,” Merlin says, “a longer breath out helps. Just think about breathing again.”

Arthur curls up on his side and wraps a hand round Merlin’s thigh. He’s not trembling, though, which is good. 

“I hate this,” Arthur says, “it’s not debilitating anymore, I thought I could maybe enjoy it. But I still hate it.”

“Yeah, let’s not do yachts again.”

“Sorry. You were so excited.”

“I can come out again, just maybe without you this time. It’s not important. There are hundreds of things we can do that don’t involve boats. Ooh, let’s go ice skating!”

“Ice is just frozen water,” Arthur grumbles. 

Merlin laughs and ruffles his hair, ridiculously fond of him. 

“I know that’s not true, we’ve been ice skating before. You’re just rubbish at it.”

Arthur denies it, but not very hard. 

“Tell me about something, Merlin,” Arthur asks. 

“About what?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Hmm. Okay,” Merlin says, grinning, “About… what was it? Four months ago? About that. I was out drinking. One of the very rare occasions Gwen and I were at the pub.”

Arthur snorts. 

“Hey, we only go about once a week these days,” Merlin says.

“Go on,” Arthur says. 

“So I was drinking, and this complete arse was sat at the bar yelling at the TV, making it impossible for anyone to have a conversation. And when we raised our voices he just turned up the TV.”

“You were noisy,” Arthur complains, as he had that night. 

“Yeah, we were the problem, sure. It was terribly annoying, you know, so I got up and asked him to stop and we had an argument and both got thrown out. Which just was not fair, I still say. But then he just shrugged, glared at the door and then said ‘huh’, as if it happened all the time. Which it probably did, to him, by the way.”

“It does not. I’ve only been thrown out once since then.”

“Twice.”

“No, Gwaine getting thrown out and me being just lumped in with him doesn’t count. It’s not fair if that counts. That would mean that I’ve only been to… three pubs that I haven’t been thrown out of.”

“Really?” Merlin asks, “impressive. You offered to buy me chips and then made me sit in the freezing cold with you to eat them while you waited for Percy to finish watching the rugger. I was a bit annoyed, but then you told me you were his designated driver and you couldn’t leave him, and it was kind of sweet. And you paid for me to get seconds of chips and a battered sausage.”

“I bought my way into your affections,” Arthur mutters, laughing, “I do actually feel nauseas.”

“You gonna vom on me?”

“No.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Again, I was with Gwaine so it doesn’t count.”

Merlin realises that he’s stroking Arthur’s sweaty hair off his face. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, realising just how sweaty Arthur is. 

“Yeah. Perspiration is probably the worst part about this. I feel much better when I can’t see it.”

“Sorry I dragged you out here.”

“Oh yeah, you were so mean and cruel. You had no idea, I made sure you had no idea.”

“I did know that you didn’t really want to much. I thought you were just a rich bastard, used to yachting around the world and bored by it.”

“I am a rich bastard,” Arthur says, “a rich bastard who hates hates hates this.”

Arthur sits up and, to Merlin’s surprise, hugs Merlin. Arthur’s not unaffectionate, but he rarely does things like this, things that have no purpose beyond… hugging. He ruffles hair, gives noogies, slaps backs. He links arms with Merlin, kisses him, squeezes his shoulder, runs his hands over Merlin’s body, but he rarely… snuggles. Or not when he’s awake. Asleep he’s a total snuggle slut. 

“Snuggle slut,” Merlin says, grinning.

Arthur doesn’t respond, just burrows into Merlin’s arms and stays there, face pressed into Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin leans back against the wall and spreads his legs to make more space for him, shifting until they’re both comfortable. They stay like that, Merlin soothing Arthur when his heart-rate picks up or when he shivers or starts trembling more, until Lance ducks into the room.

“We’re there,” Lance says, “how’re you doing, Arthur?”

“I’m fine,” Arthur mumbles, half asleep, “Might even stay here.”

“The boat rocks more as the tide comes in,” Lance says. 

“Might just get off this horrible boat of yours,” Arthur corrects himself. 

He stumbles once he’s on his feet and Lance laughs, steadying him, watching him go with a shake of the head. 

“What did you do, Merlin? He’s absolutely _languide_ ,” Lance says, beaming at Merlin.

“Not much,” Merlin says, “talked to him a bit, acted as a pillow he could cuddle. He did it mostly himself.”

Lance gives an assessing look after Arthur and then follows him up on deck. When Merlin gets back onto land Lance is having a tense conversation with Arthur, heads bent close. Suddenly Arthur gets Lance in a headlock and gives him a noogie. 

“Ah!” Lance says, shouting so everyone can hear, now, “you bastard! I don’t care what you do, I’m still proud- ahhh!”

Arthur lets Lance go and sidles over to Merlin, grinning, and puts a heavy, proprietary arm round Merlin’s shoulders. 

“Come on,” Arthur says, “pub. I need a drink.”

Gwaine bounds up at the sound of the words ‘pub’ and ‘drink’ and links arms with Merlin and they set off, Gwaine making Arthur laugh too loudly and getting them weird looks from the residents of the town. Gwen and Lance join them, Gwen nudging Gwaine aside to get Merlin's arm for himself, and Percy walks quietly at Arthur's other side, hands in pockets.


End file.
